


The Gift

by Rosebeth



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosebeth/pseuds/Rosebeth
Summary: Tom Paris writes a letter to a teenage Miral.  It's a sequel of sorts to my story The Greatest Wish, but can be read on its own.





	The Gift

Commander Tom Paris was moving around the table setting it for dinner, humming a tune no one outside of his family had heard in a very long time. He barely spared a glance when his wife entered their quarters.

“You shouldn’t have to do the work for your own birthday,” she said giving him a quick kiss.

“I know but no one else was here.”

“Poor Tom, First Officer on a starship and you still have to make your own birthday dinner.”

Laughing, he responded, “Who do you think I should assign that task to? The Operations Officer or maybe the Chief Engineer?”

That got her attention, “You wouldn’t!”

“I wouldn’t, but you could help.” She took the plates he had on offer and helped him to complete setting the table.

Sitting in the chair closest to where she was standing, she asked, don’t we have a daughter who should be doing this? Where is Miral anyway?” He gave her a look, a look that said she knew exactly where their daughter was. “Right. Silly me. Has she told you yet?”

He sat next to her. “No,” he responded worried, “you?” B’Elanna just shook her head. “What are we going to do? She’s running out of time.”

“Well one thing at a time, I’m hungry. Computer, locate Miral Paris.”

Miral Paris is in the classroom.

Tom hit his comm badge, “Tom Paris to Miral Paris,” and waited. They knew it would take a couple of minutes before they had to try again, or go look for her and filled the time chatting about their days and how they could properly celebrate Tom’s birthday on their next shore leave.

Tom hit his comm badge again, “Tom Paris to Miral Paris.”

The reply was instant this time, “Sorry dad. I had my hands full.” B’Elanna grinned at their daughter’s favorite explanation for the delay in responding to the comm.

“Miral, time for dinner.”

“Oh no, already! I’ll be there in five minutes.” Miral ended the conversation.

By the time Tom had replicated their dinner and had it placed on the table, the door’s hissed open revealing 16-year-old Miral Paris, holding a canvas at least three feet tall and two feet wide covered in a white cloth.

“What’s that?” Tom asked innocently. “Is it for me? It’s my birthday you know.”

Miral carefully propped the canvas on top of the TV set and leaning against the bulkhead. Once she had it secured in place she turned to her father, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Unable to help himself he laughed, a loud belly laugh. He looked at B’Elanna, “She gets that from you.” Crossing the distance between them in two quick steps, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Sorry baby girl.”

“Dad,” she sighed.

“What?”

“I’m 16, I’m not a baby anymore.”

He pulled her into a hug, “I know Miral, but even when your 116, you will still be my baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “I love you.”

As they sat down to dinner Tom tried again, “Is it for me?”

Rolling her eyes, Miral responded, “Yes, dad, it’s for you.” Tom started to push his chair back from the table. “No presents until after dinner,” she said in a dry voice.

He sat back in his chair and began serving dinner, “That’s a stupid rule, who came up with that idea?” Miral and B’Elanna looked at each other and laughed. Even though he knew they were laughing at him, he couldn’t help but join in the frivolity. “Yes, yes. It might have been my rule, but who exactly inspired it?” He asked looking sternly at his daughter.

Miral’s only response was to match is look, directing it back at him. B’Elanna rolled her eyes and began her dinner, hoping that her family would follow her lead. Thankfully they did and the Paris - Torres family enjoyed a leisurely dinner.

When the table had been cleared, Tom took another chance. “Okay, dinner’s over. Can I see my present now?”

“Dad!”

“Tom!” B’Elanna and Miral coursed together.

Rather than answer her father, Miral pulled one of the chairs from the table and moved it into the center of the room. She retrieved the canvas on placed it so the back of the chair held in place and she could remove the cover without knocking it over. She turned to face her parents who stood in front of the chair, they’ve done this unveiling a number of times over the years. Tom waiting with an excited twinkle in his eye, he wrapped his left arm over B’Elanna’s shoulders, pulling her close. He could feel her excitement.

“May I present an original work by Miral Paris. It’s made of watercolor, charcoal, and textile.” With a flourish, she pulled the white cloth revealing its hidden treasure.

“It’s beautiful,” B’Elanna said, “What is called?”

“Self-portrait,” answered Tom.

Miral stared at him in shock. She had nearly hidden her face with a hooded cloak, how could he tell?

“It’s beautiful,” Tom said as he reached for her. “You’re beautiful.” He pulled her to him so that her back was against his chest, tucked under his chin. She was safe in her parents embrace. “I’m sorry if spoiled your reveal, but how could this be anyone but you?”

“It could be Mama.”

“It could be, but it’s not.”

“How could you tell?”

“Miral, sweetheart, I’m very observant. You are my daughter, and I’ve spent your whole life observing you.”

“How did you know for sure, Tom?”

Stepping away from his family he approached the painting. “Even though she was trying to hide under the hood, parts of her hair and face are clearly still visible. Maybe an attempt at realism, I don’t know. What I do know is that there is a small piece of hair here escaping the hood. Miral’s hair color is the perfect blend of ours, making it lighter than yours.” He pointed to a small portion of the exposed face. “The cranial ridges on this part of Miral’s face are subtler than yours and if this was you the shading here would need to be darker.”

He stepped back and looked at Miral, but said nothing for several moments. Under his scrutiny, she looked down and to the right. He smiled. Reaching under her chin he lifted her face so that she looked him in the eye. “When you are troubled or pensive or unsure of something you get this little head tilt. Look at the painting, look at how you’re standing. Of course, it’s you; it can’t be anyone else.”

In an attempt to hide her shock and keep control of the moment, she stood up straight, crossed her arms, as she had earlier, and said, “You got the title wrong.”

“Oh,” Tom said as he wrapped an arm around B’Elanna, “what is the title?”

“Miral Paris aged 16”

The room became very tense as everyone tried not to laugh. No one wanted to be the first to break, but someone had to and soon they were all laughing. Tom sat back down at the table and tried to stop laughing, however unsuccessfully. He looked at the couch and saw his wife and daughter curled in each other’s arms, also trying not to laugh. Tom enjoyed the pure bliss of this moment and thought of all of the joy and silliness that Miral brought to their lives. This moment was perfect and he knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.

He looked around and calm seemed to have settled in the space. “Miral,” he called out, “where should we display this?”

“It’s for your office.”

“Oh. But then Mama wouldn’t be able to see it every day,” he said sadly.

Miral came and joined him at the table. “It’s your gift, you can display it wherever you want to, but it was created to fill that space opposite your desk. Besides, Mama is in there all the time it’s not like she’ll never see it.”

“Miral Paris,” came the exasperated voice of her mother.

“Alright, we’ll display it later. In the meantime, I believe that cake is in order.”

There was a sudden frenzy of activity as the cake was replicated, candles are blown out and cake sliced. Once they were back seated at the table enjoying the chocolate cake Tom always had for his birthday, he decided once again to broach the topic that was the elephant in the room. He looked to his wife and gave a small nod, hoping for her support. She gave him a small shrug, that he understood to question if this was the best time for this conversation. He glanced at his daughter and proceeded forward.

“Miral, I spoke with Ensign Rudd today,” he casually started.

“Oh,” Miral said as she put her fork down and dropped her eyes to her lap.

“Tom,” B’Elanna whispered.

He ignored her and continued on, “She said that you are behind or missing classes that you’ll need when you apply to the Academy, in order get you caught up we are going to rearrange your schedule and she’ll provide you with extra tutoring. You’ll be ready for the Academy by the time that you complete your secondary education.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Tom repeated. In that instant his heart broke; clearly, he had done something wrong. His daughter, the talented artist, wanted nothing to do with Starfleet but was afraid to tell him. He had failed her. Consumed with his own grief and disappointment, he surprised his family, and himself when he slammed his hand on the table and yelled, “Damn it Miral!”

He stood and walked a few steps from the table, turning his back on his family trying to calm himself. Maybe B’Elanna was right, maybe this wasn’t the time. Where the hell was his headstrong daughter, the one who stood up for anyone she felt was wronged, who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Why now was she not standing up for herself? Did she really believe that he would want her to join Starfleet, to spend her life doing something she didn’t want to do when he knew her passion laid elsewhere?

He had started this and now he had to finish it. When he turned back around and he didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face. When he met his daughter’s eyes, he could see her confusion at his reaction as well as her stubbornness as they remained in this awkward tableau and yet, she still said nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Tom hoped he would find a sense of calm and the words he needed by the time he reached the desk that he and B’Elanna shared that was the opposite corner in the main room. Confused, B’Elanna and Miral followed him so that when he sat at the desk he was facing them. While keeping his focus on Miral, he moved the computer in front of him. He clicked a button to activate the terminal.

“Computer, begin message to Miral Paris.” When the computer chimed in response, he gave Miral a small smile and spoke to her.

_“Baby girl, I know I’m breaking our tradition by writing you a letter on my birthday as it’s usually, it’s the other way around. I need you to know something, I love you._

_Somehow, I have caused you to doubt that, and I’m truly sorry for that. Please know that I never wanted that. I know the pain of believing that my father didn’t love me or wouldn’t love me unless I lived up to his expectations. Know that I will always love you no matter where you go or what you do in your life. All I want for you is to be happy. I want you to be happy, baby girl, as you define happiness, not how I define it or how your mother defines it._

_One of the things I admire most about you is the fearless way you will stand up and speak your mind. You have never been afraid to tell me or your mother your feelings about any number of subjects. One of my fondest memories of you is when you were ten and we had a disagreement. I don’t remember what it was about now, but I had told you to do something and responded with, “No Daddy.”_

_I turned around and was so angry. I thought, how dare she and when I turned and asked you what you said, you calmly and fiercely said, “No Daddy.” Despite my anger, I looked at you, really looked at you. Even though you knew I was angry and you were likely facing a punishment, you stood there. You were so strong, confident, and determined. You had no fear in telling me exactly why you thought I was wrong. My heart swelled with pride looking at my amazing daughter; I saw you there as the child you were, but I also saw, for the first time, the woman you would become. I was so proud of you for having the courage to speak your mind._

_Where is she Miral? Where is that strong confident young woman?_

_In your entire life, you have never expressed an interest in joining Starfleet. Your passion does not follow that path. Perhaps you would like to join your Aunt Moira and study medicine. Perhaps you would like to turn that passion and courage for the greater good and advocate for those who can’t advocate for themselves. Or maybe, just maybe, you would like to go to the city that shares our name to study art._

At Miral’s gasp, Tom gave her a small smile.

_We’ve been waiting for you to tell us what you want. I had hoped that giving you a small push about rearranging your school schedule would be the prompt necessary for you to tell us what you wanted, unfortunately, it had the opposite effect._

_This brings us full circle. I’m sorry that you’ve ever doubted my love for you, that you believed it was conditional. I hope you save this letter and anytime you feel that doubt, you’ll look at it again. Remember that my love for you has no qualifiers upon it._

_Dad._

As he stood, he gave the instruction, “Computer, save message to Miral Paris’ database.” The words were barely out when he was enveloped by a sobbing daughter.

“Oh, Daddy.”

“I’ve missed that,” he said as he stroked her hair and tucked her head under his chin using his other arm to hold her close. He looked at B’Elanna to find her looking at him with a tearful smile of her own, he reached a hand out to her which held and squeezed.

“What do you miss?” said a soft voice against his chest.

“Daddy. I miss you calling me Daddy.” He moved to hold Miral so he could look at her. He wiped her tears and kissed the top of her head.

Father and daughter stood in their embrace for several moments, before Miral pulled away. She looked down at the floor, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she stood straight, she looked confidently at her parents. “Mom, Dad, I don’t want to go to Starfleet Academy. I want to study art.”

“It’s about time,” B’Elanna said.

“There she is,” Tom said proudly. He took her hand and led her back to the dinner table. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Miral waited for B’Elanna to join them. “Dad.” She gave him a soft smile and started again, “Daddy, you have told me my whole life that you want me to do be happy. But that’s really nebulous. I’ve spent almost my entire life living on a starship. My parents, my grandfather, my Godfather, and almost every other adult I know are Starfleet. I didn’t think I had a choice. I didn’t understand. I thought you meant that I could be content being in Starfleet.”

“You know that your mother and I have both struggled with relationships with our parents because of not living up to expectations. I’ve told you about my struggles with your grandfather Owen, why would you think I would want to repeat the process with you?”

“You chose to stay in.”

Tom and B’Elanna looked at each other, both remembering their decision to remain in Starfleet and remain in space once they had returned from the Delta Quadrant.

“But Miral,” he tried again.

“Dad! I’m 16.” She could help but sigh at his confused expression. “I’m 16 now. I’m almost done with my education and almost of legal age, but the decision to choose art didn’t happen today. I was ten when I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t want. Ten is a lot different than 16. You said in your letter how proud of me you were when I stood up to you, but that was the first time you told me that. I remember that incident as well, and from my perspective, I was terrified. I was shaking the whole time that I was talking to you. You might have thought it was passion or anger but it wasn’t, it was sheer terror. Even though you didn’t punish me in the moment, it was weeks before I realized that I wasn’t going to be punished at some random time.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember the story about the time we meet a ship of Klingons in the Delta Quadrant?” B’Elanna asked; when Miral nodded she continued, “There is a part of that story, that we probably never told you.”

Miral leaned forward excited to hear a new piece of the story.

“After the Klingons left and we were discussing the idea that you could have been the kuvah’magh. Your dad told me that we were going to have a special child and he was hoping for an artist or a musician.”

Miral looked to her father, who nodded his confirmation. She stood up and paced around the room, “Why did you never tell me that? If I had known it would have saved us all the anxiety.” She stopped, looked at her parents and shook her head.

*******

In his office the next morning he sat at his desk, drinking his coffee, enjoying the view of the portrait hanging on the opposite wall. Even hidden by the hooded cloak, his daughter was still beautiful. Last night had been exhausting a real emotional ride but they had come out better for it. Before he forgot to do it, he downloaded the information on the art school he had been looking at to Miral’s database. It was then that he saw that he had a message.

“Computer play message”

_Daddy,_

_Happy Birthday. You didn’t think I’d forget to send you this letter, did you?_

He had. After the emotional turbulence of the prior evening and his spur of the moment letter to Miral, he had assumed there wouldn’t have been a letter from her. He thought about checking the time she sent it but changed his mind as it wasn’t really important.

_I never doubted you loved me. I know and have always known that you and Mama love me, I just didn’t want to disappoint you, but it seems I did that anyway. A little bit at least._

_I want to thank you. Thank you for supporting and encouraging my dreams, even when I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing._  
_Thank you for taking the risk to push me last night, it could have gone very badly. Maybe, you knew it wouldn’t because you know me so well._  
_Thank you for being so honest, seeing the tears on your face broke my heart. I’m sorry for that._

_These letters were so much easier when I was little and all I had to do was look cute and say “Happy Birthday Daddy.”_

_Love you,_  
_Miral_

“Computer, save to my personal database.”

Commander Tom Paris sat in his office, drinking his coffee, and admiring the art on the wall. For this moment life was perfect. Chuckling to himself, he realized that his life was pretty good in more than just this moment.

“Bridge to Commander Paris.”

“Paris here.”

“You are needed on the bridge, Tom.”

“On my way, Sir.” He closed the connection, set his coffee cup down, and took another moment to look at Miral’s art. He knew that there would be more difficult conversations with his family to resolve the issues from last night, but he also knew that he had two years before Miral left for art school and they would make good use of that time.

-30-


End file.
